#Cozy Baby Gear

[barefootgiraffe01]

LUXURIOUSLY SOFT BABY PRODUCTS

LUXURIOUSLY SOFT BABY PRODUCTS - When it comes to baby products, softness is key for a comfortable, protected, and cosy experience.

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[noisycowboyglitter]

Chill Out and Enjoy: Tis the Season to Be Freezin' with These Frosty Favorites

"Tis The Season To Be Freezin'" evokes the chilly embrace of winter, when frost patterns decorate windows and breath becomes visible in the crisp air. This phrase plays on the familiar Christmas carol lyric, injecting a humorous nod to the cold reality of the season.

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As temperatures plummet, people bundle up in layers of wool and down, their faces barely visible beneath scarves and hats. Icicles form crystalline chandeliers from rooftops, while snow blankets the landscape in a hushed white. The season brings a paradoxical mix of discomfort and beauty, as nature showcases its frosty artistry.

Freezing weather transforms everyday activities into challenges. Simple tasks like starting the car or fetching the mail become mini-adventures. Yet it also ushers in beloved winter pastimes: skating on frozen ponds, building snowmen, and sipping hot cocoa by the fire.

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This time of year reminds us of nature's power and our own resilience. It's a season that tests our mettle but also brings communities together, as neighbors help shovel driveways and families gather indoors for warmth and company. "Tis The Season To Be Freezin'" captures this unique blend of adversity and camaraderie, celebrating winter's icy grip with a wink and a shiver.

"Funny Christmas" conjures images of holiday mishaps and lighthearted moments that bring laughter to the festive season. Picture tangled strings of lights, lopsided trees, and ugly sweater contests that push the boundaries of good taste. It's the chaos of last-minute gift wrapping, with paper cuts and tape stuck everywhere but where it should be.

Imagine the family gathering where Uncle Bob falls asleep mid-dinner, face-first in the mashed potatoes, or the cat that refuses to leave the nativity scene alone, continually repositioning baby Jesus. It's the poorly executed Pinterest crafts, the reindeer antlers on confused pets, and the inevitable burnt cookies that set off the smoke alarm.

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Funny Christmas is about finding humor in the imperfections of the season. It's embracing the awkward family photos, laughing at bad cracker jokes, and sharing those "you had to be there" stories year after year. It reminds us that amidst the stress and expectations, there's always room for a good laugh.

Infant Christmas gifts are thoughtful presents designed for the youngest members of the family celebrating their first holiday season. These items often blend practicality with festive charm, catering to both the baby's needs and the parents' desire to create memorable moments.

Popular choices include soft, Christmas-themed onesies, plush toys with holiday motifs, and board books featuring winter or nativity stories. Personalized items like ornaments or stockings with the baby's name and birth year are cherished keepsakes.

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Safety-conscious parents appreciate teething toys shaped like candy canes or snowmen. Developmental gifts such as musical toys playing carols or sensory blocks in holiday colors stimulate young minds.

For a touch of whimsy, miniature Santa outfits or elf costumes make for adorable photo opportunities. Ultimately, infant Christmas gifts celebrate new life while introducing babies to the joy and wonder of the season.

[screampied]

thoughts on fireman toji who breeds you? 🤩

firefighter toji 😵‍💫😵‍💫

he breeds us before every emergency dispatch call he gets from a civilian—keeps his heavy equipment on too. firefighter toji manspreads as you ride him, his weighty gear makes all kinds of sounds as he’s slamming you back into him. he’d definitely fuck you on his truck, doesn’t care. his firefighter hat’s slightly tilted ‘n cocked to the side with his toughly made pants slinging down his thighs. says how fucking you gives him extra stamina and “energy” to help him save more lives. firefighter toji’s got such a beefy body, thick thighs and an even thicker bulge. snickers every time he sees you struggling to take his cock, smacks your ass and telling you to hurry up and make him cum before you make him late. he’s not satisfied until you’re plugged fully with cum—so much to where it’s spilling down your thighs, even dripping a bit on his uniform. he swipes up the mess with his gloves, filthily licking them clean before shoving them right into your mouth. firefighter toji would def use petnames like ‘sugar’ or ‘baby doll’ or even ‘pumpkin’ and makes sure to visit your cozy apartment every often on his break. always complains about your frequent fire hazards while stuffing you full on the daily. his cum is your own personal little salary he gifts you.

firefighter toji is kinda crazy though. he’d def fuck you out your halfway cracked open window . . perfect if you live high stories up just so the little ants of people near the lower ground can see your twisted facial expressions. your waist would be gripped on tight by his gloved hands and he dangles you out the window and holds you tight. “good girl. jus don’t look down,” he’d gruff with a sly smile. he won’t drop you, probably.

[dmitriene]

simon riley likes to come home, to have a place of his own, now, is never a bad memories, but a place he runs to, through the bullets, through the storms, traffic jams and fatigue in his sulken eyes, just to be back in the early morning, to the sight of your sluggish form, standing in some pajamas, contained of his clothes that left in the home, your baby daughter on your hip, cooing something while gazing around.

to be welcomed by your smudgy kisses, your nose rubbing against his stubbled cheek, grimy balaclava long ago thrown away on the shoe cabinet, as his baby girl nuzzles against him next, small, chubby grabby hands reaching to squeeze onto his gear, as she nudges her head under his jaw, cooing and giggling, bringing a weary smile to his rugged face, as simon scoops you two closer.

to settle, in the cozy warmth of the house he knows will always wait for him, with the early breakfast you cook, while simon bounces his little daughter on his knee, crooning at her with little questions she can't yet answer properly, but can babble loudly when he asks her if she was taking care of her mommy and the house, as you chuckle from the kitchen, peering from your shoulder at them two.

to smoke at the terrace of the house, seating himself on the wickered, wooden chair with soft pillows, letting his weight sag heavily back, dressed in some comfortable, cotton shirt and pajama pants, clean, there's no loud noises outside, gunshots, screams in the comms, a serene rustle of trees and setting sun, when you join him outside, baby asleep in her crib, as you settle yourself on simon's lap, letting his heavy hand wrap around you, tugging tight against his sturdy chest.

the tart, pungent scent of tobacco, the shower gel smell his body still holds, mingled with his musk, it's all about your husband finally home, his calloused hand rubbing against the curves of your body he missed so much, trailing to your legs, beneath the fabric of his shirt you wear, to squeeze at the bare skin, sinking his fingers needily, grumbling through curling smoke about how much he missed you.

he doesn't let's you sleep properly the first night he came back, and you can't, not with his heavy cock pummeling wetly in and out of your soppy cunt, painfully tight around him, making him huff and whine broken groans in the juncture of your neck, nuzzling into your sweaty skin with delicate kisses and hungry nibbles, holding you close to him, hands splayed over the length of your spine, as you muffle your pitchy moans in his scarred skin, chest against chest, your hearts thumping in unison.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[sugudolle]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ 18+ CONTENT ⊹ jason todd x fem!reader. reader wears glasses. jason is a big tease. condescension. dry humping. making out on his bike. calling you princess + pretty girl

jason letting out a big yawn as he finally makes it back to the parking lot under your cozy, warm shared apartment, the sky already dark above him—his energy suddenly returning in full as you pounce on his broad back while he’s putting his kick stand down, hanging off your big strong boyfriend’s frame as his eyes darken under his mask, still in his red hood gear.

jason tilting his head and lowly going ‘yeah?’ as he leans against his bike, the feeling of his gloved hands holding you in his lap by your hips being your breaking point after a whole day of going jasonless—no kisses, no playing with his pretty hair or grabbing him by his cheeks every 2 seconds to place an adoring smooch on his lips, you need him now—it hasn’t even been five minutes since he came back from his night patrol and a string of saliva is already connecting the two of your lips as you’re leaning in to kiss him again while straddling his lap, sitting on those firm, well toned thighs of his.

jason playfully stealing and wearing your glasses as he grabs you by the hips and presses you down on him to grind harder on his dick, making you feel how hard you made him—soft little pants falling from your pretty, swollen lips in a post makeout daze while he chuckles adoringly at your cute, now squinty in confusion, face.

“awww can’t see? look at you chasing my lips,” he teases, “greedy baby.” jason strokes his hands up and down your sides and you pout, making grabby hands at him in desperate attempts to drag him closer by the chest of his compression shirt.

“pfft ya missed.” his deep chuckle reverberates through you as you grumble, still squinting, when your lips clumsily land on his cheek and he brings you in for a sloppy, open mouthed kiss.

“think that’s what you meant to do, yeah pretty girl?”

jason gently putting your glasses back on your face, he wants you to get a good view of what he’s doing to you after all, but not without a mocking whisper of “my poor baby. i’m so mean aren’t i?” and you whine in agreement, lightly bopping his firm chest. “haha sorry sorry. you get wet so fast it’s cute. been so needy for me all day, huh? just want me to hurry up and fuck you already?”

“yeah, you like the sound of that?” he squeezes your hips with a laugh as you moan softly and enthusiastically rub yourself faster against his big bulge through the rough fabric of his cargos, his breath hitching and grazing your neck, pressing soft kisses on it here and there while his hard, thick cock rubs against your soaked panties.

“don’t worry princess, i’ll take good care of you tonight.”

[suguful]

ᥫ᭡ — 11:49PM with bakugo

╰➤ gender neutral , no cws

“i’d be a fucking idiot to let you come home by yourself,” katsuki’s eyes are narrowed, and he glares at the empty roads of the highway in front of him. “do y’know what time it is?”

you hum from the passenger’s seat, pressing your face deeper into the jacket katsuki had thrown into your arms earlier. with an upturned nose and rolling eyes, he’d tossed it over your lap while you got settled into the passenger’s seat. despite the sass in his actions, you accepted it with open arms. warm, you think, and distinctly smelling of heady leather and salted caramel. the heat of the car was cozy, and the added protected layer of katsuki’s jacket thawed the iciness that had taken over your hands just before.

the night air seemed to be especially chilly while you waited at the bus stop. with the biting wind and hope to spare your fingers from freezing over, you stuffed your hands in your pockets and silently lamented the slowness of late night transportation.

incessant vibrating of your phone forced your fingers out of comfortable refuge. your brows furrowed as you squinted down at the screen, and you took a moment to register the excessive notifications you’d garnered in the span of one minute. you spotted the common name attached to each of the messages, and shook your head in bemusement.

katsuki.

katsuki, who had been blowing up your phone upon returning to an empty home. following a text back updating him on your whereabouts, he asks — rather, demands — that you stay put.

soon enough, you find yourself fumbling with a seatbelt with a jacket haphazardly strewn across your legs in katsuki’s car. the heat radiating off the car’s vents make you sigh in relief, and you sink back into the familiar seat.

“thanks,” you cast a sidelong glance towards katsuki, “for picking me up, i mean.” the city lights reflect off his face, highlighting the steady slope of his nose and cheekbones. with nothing but the moon to bear witness to the two of you, you think he looks especially pretty when he’s left to be yours alone.

“yeah, whatever.” his hand falls slack on your thigh, and you feel his thumb brush against the seem of your pants.

katsuki’s scolding tone is something you’ve grown used to over the years — firm, clipped, and laced with concern hidden under layers of passive aggression. he continues to nag at you, lecturing and affectionate in the same roundabout manner he always does.

“always call me first,” he spares a glance at you, and the intensity of his gaze in the split second grips at your heart. “gotta make sure you don’t get yourself into anything stupid.”

you grasp at the hand resting on your thigh, and his fingers lace through yours.

“i’d kiss you if you weren’t driving right now.” you give his hand a firm squeeze and turn your head to face him head on.

the city lights, still illuminating his sharp features, come to accentuate the upturn of his lips. his eyes gleam in mischief, and you watch his grin widen as he pulls over. his hand is quick to unwind itself from yours to switch the gear into park.

“not driving anymore,” he turns his body fully towards you, and his hand comes to cup the back of your neck, pulling you over the console of the car. “kiss me, baby.”

[yuquinzel]

[ 2:18 AM ] — itoshi rin.

joining in on the clingy rin agenda with this :P

rin does not like disruptions to his carefully crafted schedule, specifically— his sleep schedule. he has to be in bed by 11 pm sharp and wake up at the first light of dawn for his morning jog. that's how he's always gone about his day, that's how he prefers everything to be— falling perfectly into a rhythmic routine.

but tonight is different, tonight it's almost past 2 am, long since he found himself cozy in the warmth of his blankets— and yet he lies wide awake, eyes heavy with drowsiness but not enough to close shut because itoshi rin can not sleep unless you're beside him.

he wants to blame his comforter for failing to keep him warm, but in truth he's aware that the cold pooling his sheets is only an extension from the emptiness of your side of the bed.

it looks barren, abandoned even.

it's not like you're not home, it's not like you had an argument that didn't end well and hence refuse to sleep next to him, it's not like some college assignment is keeping you awake late into the night. you're just busy watching reruns of your favourite series because it had your favourite actor and rin is too prideful to admit he's not used to falling asleep without you threading your fingers in his hair.

he told himself he can sleep just fine on an empty bed. and he believed it for about three hours.

now you find him hovering like a ghost by the end of the room, all wrapped in blankets as he's taking long and impatient strides over to where you're slumped on the couch.

“bed. now.” he says, almost a little desperate.

you spare him a glance, then back to your tv screen, “rin? why're you still awake?”

“it's cold. i'm cold. come back to bed.” you know his short and quick answers are just a reflection of how tired he truly is.

“you're cold?” you ask, and rin simply nods.

“just two more episodes rin, promise i'll come after that.” you say, eyes still set on the tv screen and rin eyes the way your eyes glimmer with awe when that actor shows up.

and then suddenly your vision is blocked, the fluorescent light from the tv casting white shadows across rin's large physique as he eclipses your view of the tv, “what's so great about him? you can watch these tomorrow, come back, i can't sleep without you.”

you're about to say what the hell rin step aside before the realisation hits, and his words replay in your mind. the gears in your head turn, an amused smile gracing your lips, “are you jealous of this actor?”

rin huffs, kneeling down so he's eye-to-eye with you, “i never said that. i said i can't sleep without you because your side of the bed is cold so it makes me cold.”

you laugh a little, and rin feels a sort of warmth tingle his skin, “but they won't air these old episodes tomorrow, and its only two more, give me like, half an hour?” you bargain, bringing a hand to cradle the side of his face, rin leaning in your warmth even more.

he ponders your words, grumbling something unintelligible as he gets up. you think he's about to leave, before he plops down next to you. adjusting himself on the couch with you with barely enough space to accommodate the both of you, rin manages to bury his face in your chest while you have to tightly wrap your arms around him to keep you from falling.

“we're gonna fall and it'll be your fault,” you breathe, and rin holds you even tighter at your words.

“no, it'll be your fault. you won't come to bed with me.”

“you're such a baby.” you laugh again, your chuckles reverberating through him with your closely pressed bodies, the comfort of it beginning to lull him to sleep like magic. he's a little grateful to the lack of space on the couch in exchange for the intimacy of this moment.

the last thing echoing in his mind before he dozes off is the sensation of your fingers running through his hair, with a light tug at times that relieves him of all his exhaustion.

sleeping on the couch is perhaps much better than the bed.

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

[emotional-piece-of-meat]

Thinking about batboys doing average father-son activities with Bruce.

Dick and Bruce go shopping. Alfred did, does and, probably, will do it until the end of time, but since Dick lives in Blüdhaven he prefers to do it by himself. Sometimes Bruce offers help, sometimes Dick accepts it. At such moments, Dick lets Bruce pay and completely enjoys his nepo baby life. Bruce still doesn't know the value of money and can't estimate the cost of groceries, Dick still likes being wheeled around on a cart. He barely fits in there and the rest of the customers look at them weirdly, but Bruce has been used to close attention and has never been able to turn Dick down. They recklessly rush through the departments while new articles about the eccentric Brucie appear in the newspapers, then both get scolded by Alfred for buying all sorts of useless junk.

Jason and Bruce read together. Wayne's library is one of a few places in the mansion where Jason appears regularly and willingly. They don't even talk, just sit in one room, mostly in silence, punctuated by snorting or brief comments. Bruce has a lot of books he planned to read but always put off, so he uses this time to good advantage. Jason acknowledges his existence with a slight nod and on good days sits closer, almost enough to be in Bruce's space. Jason often rereads books, writes notes on transparent stickers that Alfred gave him and chews a pencil, thinking. Sometimes Bruce finds books on the table in his office, the same transparent sticker invariably says "You would like it" with a postscript in smaller letters at the bottom "or not, I don't care". Bruce always smiles softly, adding it to the top of his list.

Tim and Bruce go to the skate park. They both wear sunglasses and casual clothes, but those few parents who come with children still whisper to each other. For the first few times it's kind of awkward, Bruce is unsure what to do and Tim isn't used to attention from his parents, but they cope. Bruce ruffles Tim's hair, enjoying the way his eyes light up, and tries his best not to jump up every time Tim falls. He wears a protective gear set, Bruce insisted, and they both know that Red Robin has been through the worst, but Bruce has little control over the mother hen regime. In the evening, coming home, they buy ice cream and coffee for the night extracurricular activities, and if Tim pretends to be asleep while Bruce carries him out of the car, no one mentions it.

Damian and Bruce go to the cinema. Damian isn't used to pop-culture, and Dick is convinced that this tragedy should be solved. Damian says it's a senseless waste of time and he has more significant stuff to do, but always looks forward to these days. It's mostly cartoons, ideally with animals in the main roles. Damian loves cartoons, and he is less ashamed of admitting it when Bruce says he loves them too. They eat something that Alfred would disapprove of, stay for a short time after the credits and constantly walk home by foot. Damian doesn't ask for uppies, he would never, Bruce picks him up and puts him on his shoulders anyway. Damian likes to be on high, for Bruce it's not even a workout, just a warm-up weight and he tries not to think bitterly that he isn't able to do this with his other children anymore. Sometimes they talk quietly, sometimes just enjoy each other's company. Sometimes Damian falls asleep, knowing perfectly well his father won't let him fall, and Bruce holds him tightly to not let him down.

It's weirdly cozy for their life, almost normal. It's not better, they would choose vigilante life anyway, they already did, but it's nice to feel from time to time. They appreciate it, even if they don't say it out loud.

[lale-txt]

❈ 𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭 𝐰/ 𝐈𝐧𝐨 & 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

where you and Ino are stuck due a snow storm and have to stay warm...

a/n: merry Christmas, my dear @mirkaaaluv (´⌣`ʃƪ)♡ i'm sooo excited i get to be your secret santa! you definitely passed the Ino fever onto me, how is he just so [incoherent screeching]? hope you'll enjoy this fic, i had so much fun writing this for you.

contains: ns.fw under the cut, afab!reader (no pronouns used, ‘cunt’ and ‘pussy’ used to describe genitalia), dirty talk, spanking, breath play, overstimulation, praise kink, fingering (reader receiving), creampie, breeding kink (no mention of pregnancy or babies), rough but loving sex, pet names (babe, baby, sweet little thing, darling)

word count: 3.1k

“See? A small fire and this place feels super cozy already. Imagine a little winter vacation getaway, just you and me–” “–and the hundred curses hiding outside within the temple, waiting to be exorcized…” “Babe, please… I’m trying to be romantic here…”

You can’t help but giggle when Ino takes you in his arms and kisses the bridge of your nose, rubbing your back to warm you up. He had managed to light up the old stove with some firewood, old newspapers and a pack of matches that you found within the abandoned hut. Now the crackling sound of burning wood filled the room, paired with the relentless howling of the snow storm outside. It was a miracle that you found this place during your mission, caught by surprise from the sudden snow. Judging from the simple but clean interior, someone associated with the uninhabited temple you were supposed to cleanse of curses has lived here before. 

Now it is your safe haven in the midst of a storm. While the weather forecast didn’t look good, neither of you would have expected to get snowed in, but here you are. And still, you couldn’t even be mad about it–being stuck with Ino in the middle of nowhere wasn’t too bad, considering your occupation as sorcerers often didn’t leave you with much free time to spend together as a couple. Maybe the stars had aligned to grant you some time together, or how Ino said: A little winter vacation getaway. 

Your partner seems to be all fired up about the situation you found yourself in, his protective instincts kicking into gear. He scurries around the hut, opening drawers and cabinets and gathering everything that could be useful in a pile; from blankets to an old kettle, he even found some dried tea leaves and pickled veggies (that would go along perfectly with the bread rolls Nanami had gifted you and Ino prior to your mission, a small souvenir from his latest bakery discovery). He also drags the mattress from the other room over, putting it in front of the stove from where you watched him with a small smirk curving up your lips. Within a few minutes the room already looked much cozier than before. 

“We should probably get out of these wet clothes or else we’ll catch a cold,” you point out and Ino nods, a hint of mischief on his face before he peels out of his jacket and his black sweater, hanging both over a chair to dry. Both of you strip down to your underwear (not without a little peeking), then Ino is the first to sit down on the mattress, grabbing the biggest blanket and patting his thigh for you to sit on. You don’t hesitate at all, craving all the warmth you can get. When you crawl into his arms, you’re welcomed with lots and lots of kisses on your face down to the side of your neck, before you settle down comfortably with your back against Ino’s chest, letting him wrap the blanket around you both. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, taking deep inhales of the scent of his favorite person in the whole world. 

A comfortable silence falls between you two, and for a while you just sit there holding each other, watching the fire in the stove almost mesmerized, and listening to the sounds of the storm outside. Snow is already piling up on the windowsill while the sun is long gone, but you’re not afraid; you could never while being in these arms. 

“I love you so,” Ino eventually mumbles against your skin before kissing your shoulder and hugging you a bit closer to him. He cups your hands with his, noticing how they were still not fully warmed up yet. He rubs them a little and places a few kisses on your fingertips. “Should I go find another blanket for you? Or make some tea?”

You shake your head and rest your head against his shoulder, looking up at him with a small smile. “Nah, I’m fine. Let’s just stay like this for a little longer. I already feel much warmer.”

Ino looks like he is about to protest, but then he opts to kiss you instead. He is gentle at first, his lips softly brushing against yours, but he is quick to pick up your subtle cues and kisses you harder, one hand coming to your chin while his tongue finds yours. His arm wraps a little tighter around your middle, pulling you closer to him, till there’s not even an inch left between your bare bodies. You can tell from his breathing that Ino is feeling the same rising heat from within as you do. 

A quiet growl comes from his throat when you arch your back a little, grinding your ass against his boxers from where his cock was throbbing already, and it takes him every ounce of self-restraint to not just pull the fabric aside and sink you down on his length. Instead he makes sure you’re nestled tightly with your back against his chest, the hand on your chin wandering down slowly to your throat while his other reaches for your thighs, spreading them open till your legs are hooked over his knees. The blanket hides the damp patch in your panties that would otherwise be on full display, but by now Ino doesn’t need to see to know how aroused you are; your sweet little sounds and your squirming tell him everything he needs to know. 

“Wet already? My sweet little thing is so eager for me, hm?” he hums in your ear when running his knuckles between your clothed folds, the fabric sticking to them. You whine a little, hungry for more of his touch, and he squeezes his fingers around your throat a bit tighter, not too much but enough to remind you of the position you’re in. “Tell me what you want, baby…”

Not giving you any time to respond, Ino’s big hand cups your cunt, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest when he feels you buck your hips against him. He starts to massage your folds a little, a thumb brushing over your sensitive clit and making your legs tremble, a finger hooked under the crotch of your panties and pulling them up. He always loves to tease you like that, your reactions making him hungry to devour you. 

“Wanna cum on your cock,” you mumble in his ear, kissing every inch of him you can reach. His scent was so familiar, so warm, and a little intoxicating; you just couldn’t get enough of him, ever. “Wanna feel you all the way inside my tummy…” 

“Oh, yeah? Gonna be so good for me, baby? Gonna let me stuff that pretty little cunt of yours?”, Ino asks, his voice low and husky. He’s planning on fucking you against every flat surface in this hut anyway, but he loves it when you use your words to say what you want. He can never get enough of the yearning and the desire in your voice, a melody for his ears only. Patience was never his strong suit though, not when you’re both so riled up, so it’s no surprise when he slides your panties down to your ankles and dips one finger into your wetness. 

Your head falls back against his shoulder when Ino adds a second finger, then a third when he feels how your walls flutter around him. His breath is hot and heavy on your skin while he makes you fall apart in his arms, whispering needy words close to your ear. His hand around your throat squeezes tighter every time you clench down on his slender fingers, rubbing that sweet spot that pushes you over the edge so easily. You start feeling a little lightheaded, your whole body tingling. 

“Cum for me, baby… need you all nice and loose so you can take me, okay?”, Ino mutters, pressing his fingers deeper into your heat. You’re dripping by now, your juices running down his wrist while you swallow him so greedily, close, so close–

Ino lets go of your throat once you gush around him, muffling your mewls and whimpers with a deep kiss that takes your breath away. He keeps teasing your clit throughout your orgasm, the overstimulation making you squirm, but you’re still nestled so tightly against him, there’s no escape. Ino can never get enough of the way you look when you’re wrecked with pleasure, but he’s no bully so he lets you breathe for a moment and slides his fingers out to bring them to his lips. 

“I love how you taste,” he moans quietly against your ear, relishing the sticky mess you’ve made. Ino kisses you again and lets you savor your own juices. “So sweet. So delicious. Tastes like heaven to me.” 

He nibbles on your ear and holds you tight in his arms until your heart rate slows down a bit. The whole time his aching cock is pressed against the small of your back, throbbing and desperate to be touched.

When you finally feel the strength in your limbs returning, you sit up slightly, the blanket falling down your shoulders and revealing your bare form. Ino’s eyes never leave your silhouette, he’s taking you in and admiring the shape of you with the eyes of a love drunk man. 

“Fuck me.” 

Your voice is barely a whisper, a little husky even. Dripping with desire. Ino pulls down his boxers and his cock springs free, resting heavy against his stomach. The pink tip is oozing with precum, he can barely hold back anymore. He starts stroking himself slowly while you get on all fours, facing the stove and presenting him your backside. You lower your upper body to the ground, your ass up in the air, spreading your folds with two fingers wide open for him. Ino lets out a shaky breath at the sight of yours, but he doesn’t dare to touch you yet.

“Please… need your cock. Need you inside. Fuck me, Ino, darling, please, fuck me…”

Your sweet please make your lover’s resistance crumble. Ino gets behind you, one hand on your ass to spread it apart even wider for a better view. The light of the fire dips him into warm shades of gold, and his hungry gaze lingers on you. You let out a needy mewl when he rubs just the tip against your cunt, almost making you jolt from being so sensitive still. You whine out his name and arch your back more to push yourself onto him, but he keeps you in place, his fingers digging deeply into your flesh. Ino breathes heavily, and then his hand comes down for a sharp smack, quickly soothed by more kneading. 

“You’re dripping,” he mutters and teases your clit with the tip of his cock, charming out sweet moans from your throat with every move. “Tell me again what you want, baby, c’mon…”

“Need your cock, please, please, just fuck me already–”, you whimper, and cry out loud when another smack lands on your ass, the other side this time. The sharp pain burns so good, and this time Ino comes down to kiss the spot where a faint red mark blooms. Oh, how badly Ino wants to bury his face in your cunt, and lick and spit and suck till you choke on his name on your tongue, but for now he has other plans.

With one swift movement he grabs you by the hips and spins you around, letting out a small growl now that you’re under him. Ino leans down, one hand grabbing your wrists and pinning them down above your head, while his lips find yours again, kissing you feverishly. His cock rests heavy and twitching on your stomach now, as if to demonstrate you how deep he’s gonna nestle inside of you.

“Wanna see your pretty face when you cream around my cock, baby,” Ino sighs and looks at you like you’re magic; pure adoration and desire. It sends warm shivers throughout your whole body and makes your pussy throb, feeling empty ever since his fingers slid out. He lets go of your wrists to grab your legs and put them over his shoulders, making sure you’re comfortable while being spread wide open for him. Ino kisses the insides of your thighs, a few light bites in between, and groans when your hands come to his cock, giving it a few strokes before raising your hips slightly for him to slide in. By now your mind is blank, desiring nothing but to be stuffed to the brim.

The air is knocked out of lungs when Ino finally pushes his cock inside in one swift movement. You’re so wet and your walls swallow him greedily, fluttering around him as you let out a sigh of relief, the biggest smile curling upon your lips when he starts rutting like an animal, setting a merciless pace from the very beginning. While he first held your legs in place, Ino now puts his hands down on the mattress next to your head, basically folding you in half while he keeps on pounding into you. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby, feels so good, so pretty for me…” Ino growls and brushes a strand of hair out of your face to get a better look at your blissfully fucked out expression, your eyes rolling in the back of your head with every thrust of his. Your sweet moans and whimpers are louder than the snow storm outside and awake something feral within him; all he can think about is how badly he wants to breed you, how he wants to stuff you so full of his cum till it’s dripping out of your throbbing core, how he needs to fill you up till you remember his shape forever.

“Close… ‘m so close…”, you mewl, that familiar knot in your core once again dancing on the edge of snapping. You’re melting underneath him, your vision getting a little blurry when you rest one hand on your tummy and feel his cock stretching you out so deliciously. The words falling out of your mouth are drowned out in needy moans and whimpers. “Gonna cum… wanna cum with you, Ino… love you, gonna cum, gonna…” 

Ino lets out an airy laugh, not mocking but so full of love, overwhelmed by his own emotions. He leans down to kiss you again, and to push his cock a little bit deeper inside of you as well until he’s fully bottomed out in your aching cunt. 

“I love you. Love you so much, baby,” he babbles, his hips stuttering by now while he also chases his high, his thrusts getting harsh and sloppy. “Sweet thing… taking me so well… gonna let me fill you up, yeah? Want my cum? I love you. I love you. Fuck, you’re squeezing me, baby, feels good, feels so good… I love your pussy so much… love you. Mine, all mine… ‘m gonna…” 

Your legs slide down from his shoulders and wrap around his waist, pulling him even closer to you, as if he wasn’t already bottomed out in your core, seconds away from falling apart. He moans into your open mouth and after one more brutish thrust you feel waves of pleasure rush throughout your limbs, a numbing and tingling sensation exploding within you. You cum so hard, it makes Ino take a sharp breath and whimper as your cunt milks him, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck when he cums shortly after you, spilling his hot load inside. 

While your orgasm seems to last forever, neither Ino nor you make an attempt to move or pull apart, content in your tiny universe. The only sounds are your heavy breathing, your hammering heartbeat and the crackling of the fire wood. Ino still keeps on mumbling words of praise and adoration against your skin, until you muffle them with a kiss on his lips which he returns with equal passion. 

You trace the scar on his forehead gently with your fingers while gazing into his eyes. They were a bit glazy, with the reflection of the flames dancing in them. Ino leans more into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand and down to your wrist. He doesn’t pull out, not yet, feasting on the feeling of you pulsating around his cock; his load and your juices slowly dripping down from where you’re connected. 

“You’re not cold anymore, are you? I warmed you up really good?”, he asks with a grin and gently bites down on one of your fingers. His eyes sparkle with mischief. You let out a small chuckle. Sometimes he reminds you of a puppy, chewing on everything he could get a hold on, and so eager to get praised.

“Mmm, I’m not sure,” you think out loud and watch his eyebrows twitch in irritation. You laugh again and cup his chin with your hand, pressing another kiss on his lips. “I’ve heard it’s important to keep moving if you want to stay warm…” 

Ino huffs and rolls his hips in response, twitching inside of you, getting hard again. He is so easy to tease, it’s adorable. His hands come down to your hips, and suddenly in one swift motion you’re lying flat on your stomach again, with Ino bottoming out inside of you. Being manhandled like this, plus the new angle, make you moan out loud and tremble from pleasure and overstimulation, and Ino clicks his tongue at your poor attempt to crawl away.

“Oh, I can keep you warm, my sweet,” he whispers close to your ear, pinning you down against the mattress. He lets out a small hushed moan when you arch your back further for him. “Will you be good and return the favor? Gonna let me keep my cock in your pretty pussy? You’re clenching so hard around me, baby, it’s like you never wanna let me go…”

There’s truth in his words, and that night, you definitely don’t let go; and when the sun rises again and the snow starts melting, nothing but love lies on the tip of your tongue, getting swallowed greedily by the one who has your whole heart.

[kaya-p]

can you PLEASE write uconn team with reader and paige’s baby? like how they would treat the baby and stuff like that 🙏 please i need it so bad

paige bueckers' team with your guys' baby 👩🏼‍🍼

notes: THIS IS TOO FUCKING ADORABLEEEEE !!! that baby would be the cutest and coolest baby EVER 🥹 taglist form, if anyone wanna be tagged in my works !!! and requests are open !!! @imsobabygiirl @Bibella8swan @xxloveralways14 @sunkissed-zegras @fake-intelligences 🎀

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

꩜ reader is adopted as an honorary member of the uconn women's basketball team

꩜ paige bueckers, the star guard, has a baby, and the whole team is excited to welcome the little one

꩜ the team babysits during practices, with a special cozy corner set up in the gym

꩜ coach has a “baby playbook” with schedules for feeding and nap times that aligns with practice schedules

꩜ personalized baby gear like tiny sneakers and a baby-sized jersey with “mini bueckers” on the back

꩜ team photo shoots with the baby wearing a little headband with uconn colors

꩜ players making funny faces and goofy sounds to make the baby laugh during timeouts

꩜ gentle, soothing music during the baby’s naptime, sometimes even sung by the players

꩜ storytelling sessions where each player shares stories of their own childhood or hometown

꩜ first birthday party planned with a basketball theme, complete with a cake shaped like a basketball court

꩜ learning to dribble as soon as the baby can walk, with a tiny basketball gifted by the team

꩜ endless supply of cuddles and hugs from everyone, making the baby feel loved and part of the uconn family

[deesblanketfort]

Sick and regressed ☆´ˎ˗ ︶︶︶ 

Well, while I'm writting this I'm bedridden (likely with covid), and for some reason I really want to spend my sick days regressed and take something good out of it at least.

Getting comfy!

🧦: Pajamas time! Is there anything more regressor-coded than cozy printed pajamas, an animal kigurumi or onesie? I'd say no. And since I'm staying on bed, I'm surely wearing those all day long.

🛏️: Bed setup! When you're bedridden, a bed table ends up being really useful in case you want to do stuff that requires a flat surface. If you have one of those, lucky you! I, however had to improvise with a smooth wooden board standing on my lap, therefore any kind of long, resilient and flat surface can do the job just fine.

🧦: Blanket fort! Alternatively, if you're able to roam around your house or have someone to help, you can build a blanket fort over your bed or a comfy surface to stay in!

🛏️: Sick gear! Runny nose? Bring tissues. Got a fever? Make a cold damp towel for your forehead. Tummy aches or localized pain? Make a hot water compress. And make sure to keep track of the meds you're taking, of course.

🧦: Get your plushies! Since what I got is very contagious close contact with anyone is out of the table, but my stuffies are completely immune to sickness and ready to cuddle! (I'll have to wash them afterwards to disinfect them though)

Games and activities!

🎮: Viddy games! Either on computer, phone or a console (handheld preferred), videogames are perfectly stationary and don't require much movement from your part.

🖍️: Table games! Table games are also stationary and can be played right from your bed if you have a bed table, although most games need other people to play with you, your plushies can serve this purpose.

🎮: Play pretend! Playing pretend can be limited when you're bedridden, but there are some scenarios you're perfectly able to do! Such as pretending you're a shop owner and your stuffies are the clients, pretending your stuffies are your doctors/nurses taking care of you, or vice versa. Things like tea parties and pretend schools are still on the table!

🖍️: Arts and crafts! Being sick won't stop me from wanting to draw and color, since I can do it from my bed anyways! Aside from drawing and coloring, I might as well do some collage and paper craft, just might need help to clean up afterwards.

🎮: Cartoon time! No better opportunity to (re)watch your favorite cartoons than when you're sick, bedridden and bored, right? And since this brings me comfort, here are some cartoon episodes that center on being sick: Bumpy and the Wise Old Wolfhound (Bluey), Steve Gets The Sniffles (Blues Clues), Bear Flu (We Bare Bears), Doctor Daisy M.D (Mickey Mouse Clubhouse), Arthur's Chicken Pox (Arthur)

Snack time!

🍼: Hot drinks! Specially if you're with a cold or a sore throat in general, hot drinks such as hot cocoa and tea are perfect for warming up an icky throat.

🧁: Spices for a sore throat! Like mint, honey, ginger and lemon. I'm sure there's plentiful of drinks you can make using these!

🍼: Give preference to healthy snacks and meals! Like fruits and veggies, yogurt, noodles, soup or sandwiches. Bonus points if they're arranged in a fun shape (animal, plant, star, etc)!

🧁: Keep your appetite in check! It's pretty common to lose your appetite when sick, therefore I'd say it's ideal to keep your meals smaller (and sometimes eat more often) than usual.

Taking care of yourself!

🧸: Stay hydrated! Water is always good, and if you're sick you likely need it more than usual, drinking from sippy cups, baby bottles, straw cups or any kind of fun themed cup is usually more fun and encouraging than boring adult cups.

🧶: Keep your temperature in check as well! Besides from checking if you have a fever ever so often, it's also good to keep yourself warm with blankets and heating if your body feels cold, or alternatively, turning on fans and using lighter sheets instead of blankets if you're too hot.

🧸: Beware the germs! If you got a contagious disease (like me), make sure to properly wash and disinfect anything you bring to your mouth such as pacis, teethers, bottles and cutlery before and after using them. Plus, it's important to wear a mask or ask others to wear a mask when near you as well.

🧶: Resting is key! Some of these days I'm too tired to do anything above, and I'd rather just nap the whole day, and that's okay! Sometimes being sick means not being able to do anything at all and it's important to have your extended napping time to get better.

[noisycowboyglitter]

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[jujutsukatsuki]

Memories || B.K

|| in honor of someone sending in a hate mail about my writing and specifically part one of this work, which you don’t have to read to understand this. Here’s part two! This is dedicated to that hater! Listen to Memories by Conan Gray to get the full effect! ||

It had been six months since she saw him, since he broke her heart. Since he walked out the door like she meant nothing. She saw him on tv often, Pro Hero Dynamite, every week it was a report about how he saved the city or was accepting a new award for his heroics.

It wasn’t fair.

She stilled lived in the same apartment, mainly cause they had signed a two year lease so she couldn’t leave. She had finally managed to get herself to stop crying when she would look at the old pictures of the two of them.

She watches the rain out the window, a black cardigan pulled around her as she sees the sidewalks puddled with water. She takes a sip of her red wine as a soft knock breaks the gentle silence of the apartment. The cat she had gotten a month after he left her, gently meows and jumped up on the entry table next to the dark oak front door.

The walk to the door is quick from her cozy chair that overlooks the sidewalk. She looks through the peephole and sees red eyes peering through it at her. She jumps before she opens the door.

“Bakugou?” The use of his last name makes his skin crawl, he groans.

“I just.. can we talk? Y/n?” He looks at her, he can watch the gears in her brain turn as she looks at him. She can see how wet his hoodie is and she can’t help but open the door for him.

He slides in and goes to walk into the living room but stumbles over the cat.

“Who put a fuckin’ cat there?!” He grumbled before letting the cat sniff his hand.

She watches him cautiously, like she’s a wild animal and he’s prey.

Somehow they end up on the kitchen floor, Bakugou is wrapped in a blanket, his clothes put in the dryer. Y/n has her back against the cabinets as she watches him, her knees are pulled tight to her chest as if they were a shield guarding her heart from him.

“I miss you.” His voice is rough, she can see the remainder of the black make up he wore under his hero mask.

“I wish you’d stay in my memories.” She bites back, her tone is sharp, callous, calculated.

“I deserve that.” He agrees and runs his hands through the damp blonde streaks, the black cat named Starfire had curled up next to him.

‘Traitor’ Y/n thinks in her head as she eyes her companion.

“I hate what I did to you.. I was trying to pr-“

“So help me god if you say protect me.” Y/n snaps, her eyes watering from the confrontation.

“Y/n.. baby.. you don’t get it..” he tried to reason, his eyes search hers for any hope that he can explain.

“I get it. I got it when I came home to a half empty apartment and you sat me down and then walked out. I understood when you blocked my number. I understood when you had security kick me out of your agency when I wanted to talk to you.”

Bakugou closes his eyes, the alcohol has gotten to his head and he feels ill, or maybe it’s the guilt for his actions.

“You protected me all through out high school and college and I supported you when you were in hero school and starting out and you faced greater threats then whatever it was this time. You didn’t leave me then. So what was it Bakugou? What the fuck was it?!”

His last name on her tongue feels wrong, he wants to hear katsuki from her pretty lips.

“I.. I got scared. I wanted to marry you but I got scared. I wasn’t ready.” He whispers and moves closer to Y/n, he moves to lay on the ground, his head in her lap.

“Please Y/n… I’m sorry… please understand.”

She can feel the tears fall on the bare skin of her thigh, she thinks about the last few months that they were together in her head. The way he had gotten a call about a nine thousand dollar transaction on his card, the way he always would stand in the closet and be staring at something but hide it away when Y/n would come around. His mom texting and asking when they could go get their nails done even when they had never done that before.

Y/n looks down at the sobbing drunk man and sighs, she rubs the bridge of her nose and squeezes her eyes shut. The sound of the dryer going off rips her from all thought.

“I’ll be right back.” She gently maneuvers out from under him and goes to get his laundry. When she returns with the clothes, he’s still on the floor petting Starfire and whispering to himself.

“Your mom is so beautiful, I wish I never fucked things up.. I miss her every day. I know I ruined her but I could fix it.. make it up.. god..”

Y/n clears her throat and Bakugou sits up quickly startling Starfire who scampers off.

“You can sleep in the guest room. You’re in no condition to drive or walk.“

Bakugou stands up, keeping the blanket tight around him.

“Okay,” he agrees and walks to where the guest room was, he loved this apartment, remembered the day the two moved in like it was yesterday. He opens the door and it looks different. Y/n’s things are in here.

“Wrong door.” Y/n says as she crosses her arms over her chest.

Bakugou turns and opens their old bedroom. The guest room furniture was now in here.

“Why?” He asks and looks at her.

“Couldn’t stand to be in there.” She looks away.

He doesn’t say anything else as he goes into the room.

“Oh. Here.” She grabs his clothes from the kitchen counter and hands them to him.

“Thanks Y/n.” He smiles, his head feels gross, he needs to lay down.

“Yeah. Well good night.”

She walks into her bedroom and closes the door, she puts her back against it and slides down it, hands running through her hair.

Y/n lets herself cry, she sniffles as she wipes her tears on the black cardigan. It’s not fair she tells herself that right as she’s fully put back together he comes in here and fucks it all up, it’s not fair that he can ruin her own self image of herself and run back to her like it meant nothing.

She takes her sweater off and puts on a big t shirt and crawls into bed. Within a few minutes there’s a knock at the door and Bakugou peeks his head in.

“Y/n?” He says “I love you.” He finishes.

Her eyes flick to him and she jumps out of bed, the door flying open to see his full body

“No. No. No. No.” she picks up a pillow and starts to hit him with it, all the rage she had built up exploding out.

“You don’t get to say that! You don’t get to come here and ruin my life over again like you did already! You don’t get to make me believe that we could be something again when you already proved that I was nothing! You made me feel like I was nothing! Don’t you understand that you’re holding yourself back from finding someone you actually love?! I was barely surviving after you left! It’s not fair!” She screams at him, tears rolling down her cheeks like the storm that rages outside.

Her face is red and warm and her body feels like she’s laying on hot coals. Bakugou gently grabs her and pulls her into a hug, she can faintly smell the cologne he always used, the one she still kept in her bathroom. She can smell the beer on him as well. She breaks down in his arms, she can barely hold herself up as he strokes her back and holds her.

“Shhh, I got you. It’s okay.” He whispers and pulls her to the bed, he lays down with her on his chest. He keeps a tight hold.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” He whispers over and over.

They fall asleep like that. When the sun comes up and shines in their eyes, they lay in the aftermath of the storm. Bakugou wakes up first like he always did. Y/n isn’t far behind when she feels gentle kisses on her forehead.

“Morning sleeping beauty.” He whispers

“Hi.” She muttered and closes her eyes once again.

Maybe they didn’t have to be what they were before, maybe they could be something better.

Bakugou gently sits up and holds her.

“I am sorry Y/n.. and I do miss you. Just please.. one shot..”

Y/n takes a deep inhale of the cologne that sticks to his body. She slowly nods.

“Okay.. one shot, that’s all you get.”

“That’s all I need. I won’t fuck up again. I promise.”

[jamespottersdaisy]

A man without love

Peter Parker x fem!reader

|1.4k|

a/n: just a fluffy banter during a cozy night

song choice has absolutely no relation to the fic whatsoever, i just listened to it the whole time and liked lmao. dedicated to my baby jay @hollandweather

Moonlight to show the way so we can follow

Waiting inside her eyes was my tomorrow

Then something changed her mind, her kisses told me

I had no loving arms to hold me

Every day I wake up, then I start to break up

Lonely is a man without love

Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out

Lonely is a man without love

Somewhere amidst the mellifluous melody, the door clicks, and you know Peter is home. 

You’ve been captivated in your book for far too long to notice the hour; quite late, might I add. It must have been a rough night for him to decide to stay past two in the morning for patrol.

You grab your phone and toss it between the pages as a bookmark before hopping on your feet.

“Nice song, baby,” Peter murmurs as he dawdles to your room, leaving its door agape. You wager he is changing to something much more comfortable than that suit of his but still barge in the room nonetheless. “How was the night, big guy?”

You catch a few discoloration on his skin as his bare torso moves around beside the bed. He glances at you sidelong, swiftly hauling a grey shirt on. “Smashing success. No criminals left around.”

He might have rushed to shroud his skin with cloth from you, but you are shrewd enough to match his furtiveness. No chance he is hiding those tiny injuries from you. Perhaps he has a good reason to do so– such as the look on your face when you see him hurt– but still, not good enough of a reason to deny you. 

“Lemme see,” you clutch the hem of his shirt to lift it up, only for his hand to grab yours to parry.

“On my period, sorry, beautiful.” His eyes may be drooping from exhaustion, yet his smirk is as smug as always while you glower daggers at him.

“Let me see, Peter.”

“That’s harassment.”

“There’s something purplish on your back,” you try harder, but he is stronger.

“You’re delusional.”

“I know what I saw, quit gaslighting me.”

“Gaslighting is not real. You’re crazy,” Peter shakes his head.

“Are you hiding hickeys of trysting?” you jeer, making him chuckle and release your hand from his at last. 

“Nope, don’t have time for that,” he shakes his head gallantly. “Just bruises of valour.”

Which simply earns a mocking scoff from you.

You don’t see or feel his amorous gaze on you as your fingers trace the new bruises. They’ll heal, you know they will, and still, you want to kiss every one of them into evanescing.

“How was your night?” he whispers, bringing his hand to your hair and pushing a strand behind your ear. 

“Better than yours, apparently,” You now touch the small nick on his jaw tenderly and turn around to get a band-aid from the nightstand.

His eyes follow your movements around, gears working in his brain. “Please, not the pink one–” he calls when you grab a band-aid.

Too late. You are already springing back with a wide grin. “Pink one!”

“Not the pink one…” he closes his eyes in disdain as you strut back to his side and place a screaming pink plaster on his jaw.

He looks down in your eyes as you check his handsome face, clearly proud of your work. “I look so manly.”

“Most manliest you ever looked.”

“Wanna get in the bed with me?

“You’re on your period, Peter.”

He laughs and turns around before throwing himself into the bed. “C’mon, take your book and the music and come here.”

I cannot face this world that's fallen down on me

So if you see my girl, please send her home to me

Tell her about my heart that's slowly dying

Say I can't stop myself from crying

Every day I wake up, then I start to break up

Lonely is a man without love

Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out

Lonely is a man without love

When you sit on the bed, legs crossed with your book on your lap, Peter takes your phone, restarting the same song. He averts his eyes to your book. “Anything new?” 

“Oh, yeah, you’ve missed so much,” your eyes widen with excitement, and Peter’s smile widens intuitively. “I don’t even remember where you left off.”

“The girl’s memories got stolen,” he reminds you. “Want me to braid your hair?”

“I get so sleepy when you do that,” you shake your head and open the book to go through pages with hopes of remembering what you’ve read since Peter left.

“I should hope so, do you know what hour it is?”

“But I’ve missed you,” your head snaps up, and Peter narrows his eyes. His hand is already up in your hair, playing and caressing the locks gently. “Liar. You’ve been reading that book since I’ve left home.”

“And two hours before that,” you lean into his touch.

“You’ve officially lost the right to complain about your headache,” He props up in bed, switching to a more suitable position for easier access to your hair.

“I will do it regardless.”

‘I know you will,” his long fingers take three strands, and you are already feeling sleepy. “Now, please, tell me what happened after the poor girl lost her memories.”

You pause for a minute, mustering all the plot you’ve consumed to drain. As you remember the things the poor main character went through, your blood pressure soars, eyes widen and voice raise. “They lied to her! Can you believe that?”  you exclaim, at which Peter raises his brows in happy bewilderment. “God, I hate her mother so much!”

“Stepmother. Go on,” He interjects before passing to another strand of hair and dividing it into three. “What about her situationship?”

“He is not her situationship, Peter–”

“I mean, they flirt about killing each other, sleep together, but they’re not together.”

“That’s sexual tension and slow burn,” you scowl. Peter lets go of another newly done braid.

“Yep, that’s what I said,” he nods, caressing your cheek with his thumb. ”Situationship. What happened to him?”

That’s when you straighten your back, and Peter rolls his eyes. He never was fond of the male main characters of the books you’ve read. No matter how they looked and what they did, you always seemed to be infatuated with them.

“He was looking for her, and he found her and he freaked out when she didn’t remember her–” You start babbling about the male lead, but Peter is not amused.

“Breathe.”

“But he could not openly tell her everything, it would freak her out, so he–”

“Still not breathing, beautiful.”

“Stop interrupting,” you wave off your hand.”So he lied about who he is to gain her trust and–”

“He’s such a liar, what do you even see in him?”

“He’s hot,” you lightly slap his chest to stop him from cutting off your every word. 

“He is short, but sure, go on,” Peter grabs you by the arm and yanks you closer to his chest. 

This is his favourite time of the day, and you are always too busy to see it. Your voice echoes around the room, albeit he forgets most of the things you are saying by the morning. What matters is that you are talking. To him. With him. 

“Doesn’t matter, still hot,” You nuzzle against his chest, feeling his hands roam around your hair and back. It’s dizzying and yet the most comforting feeling you’ve ever felt. “So, they start spending time behind her mother and slowly grow a bond.”

“There we go, she’s gonna take forever to trust him again,” Peter’s tone is already lowered, welcoming you into a place of drowsiness. Both of you in your pyjamas, tangled together under a blanket that Peter wrapped around you. 

“So, you wouldn’t wait and fight for my love even if it took forever?” your words are heavy, and your voice is slumberous. Peter smiles down at your hooded eyes and rests his chin against yours.

“Baby, you didn’t acknowledge your feelings for me for six months.” He is right. You fought a lot to not ruin the friendship at first.

“I still could have taken my time,” you mumble, eyes closed. “Act oblivious to your flirting.”

“I could not be clearer that I was flirting,” he chuckles slowly, taking the book away from you and placing it on the counter. “And I would’ve waited another six months.”

“You would get bored.”

“Of you? Never,” is all that is said before you doze off and he shuts off the lights.

Every day I wake up, then I start to break up

Knowing that it's cloudy above

Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out

Lonely is a man without love

Every day I wake up, then I start to break up

Knowing that it's cloudy above

Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out

Lonely is a man without love

thank you for reading! let me know if you liked it!!!! love you guys so much!

[yellowharrington]

jaded -- chapter 1, carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx

warnings: sexual content, mention of unprotected piv sex, swearing, workplace relationship. minors dni with this story please.

word count: 1.4k+

a/n: guess who's back... back again... natty's back... tell a friend.... hey besties lol ik its been a year but i've been obsessed with the bear so i decided to write this. it will be a multichaptered fic and i will update it as soon as i've finished writing the chapters lmao. inspired by the song "jaded" by miley cyrus. pls pls pls enjoy

summary: fresh off of his breakup with claire, carmy needs a rebound. he just doesn't expect it to be his pastry chef.

masterlist | chapter 2

It starts with a ride home after service.

The sun had fallen down over the horizon, painting Chicago black with night. It’s chilly, middle of February, and you and Carmy are the only ones left at the restaurant. You’re both at the lockers, grabbing the last of your things and turning off the last few lights, leaving it behind you as you step out into the darkness of the street. Only amber lights are above you, illuminating Carmy’s face, along with the glow of his lighter around his cigarette. “How are you getting home?” He asks, looking down the alleyway. “Just the train,” you reply, gesturing towards the station a few blocks down the road. “Let me drive you,” he smushes the cigarette underneath the toe of his shoe, looking up at you, rather softly. “Oh, it’s not far,” you try to step the other way, before he grabs your shoulder lightly. “It’s cold, and fuckin’ dark, and there’s murderers. Just let me drive you home.” He was nothing if not protective. 

It really had been a short drive, slow tunes coming from his old car’s radio, drowned out by the sounds of the city around you. It was generally silent, Carmy’s hand on the gear shift. “It’s just up here,” you gesture to the building up the street. “Just take a right.” He does, obeying your action, pulling up in front of a 3-floored walk-up. “Thanks,” you grab your backpack by your feet, opening the door and giving him a small look before stepping out. “Hey, listen,” you start. His eyes are dark, sunken, tired. He’s wearing his usual wool jacket around a cozy navy blue sweater. “I was working on something before work this morning. A… a dish. Can I show you really quick? And you can tell me what you think?” He looked at the time on his phone, and then up at you. Baby blue eyes, peering from under thick lashes. “Sure, chef,” he says quietly as he puts his car in park and unbuckles the seatbelt. 

When you walk him up to your apartment, he’s endeared. You let him in, and your place smells of vanilla candles and laundry, from the load you’d done before work earlier that day. “Sorry about the mess,” you gestured to small pile of plates and spoons in the sink, and the aforementioned unfolded laundry on the couch. “You’d lose your mind if you saw my place if you think this is mess,” he laughed, pushing a hand through his soft golden hair. Your own coat comes off as you make your way into the kitchen, and he has to stop himself from staring. Your tight jeans fit your body perfectly, white t-shirt coming up over your hips only enough for him to see a dark tattoo on the back of your hip. You poured him a cup of cold water and put it in front of him, before firing up the burner on your stove and putting a stainless steel pan on the orange-blue flame. “Make yourself at home.”

He wandered around your apartment a bit, peering into your bedroom. Soft white bed, soft sheets, big fluffed pillows. An open window, letting a chilly breeze in, curtains slightly swaying with the night air. It reminds him of her, her soft sheets, big eyes, the nights he slept next to Claire and kissed her supple cheeks and pink lips. She was like this too; eager, clean, happy, simple. Easy to be with, and easy to like. You’d given off a similar energy the same day you walked into the restaurant on your first day, and you had reminded him of her. Kind eyes, warm presence, but with a different demeanour that chefs almost always had. A jaggedness, he thought. 

The sound of the plates being put on your small kitchen table snapped him out of his daydreams, as you held out a fork for him. “It’s a, uh, mango custard, bit of toasted cardamom and coconut cream in there, and, um, a coconut macaroon with a homemade chutney.” He raises his eyebrows at the dish before him, plated beautifully, and takes a small bite of each component. You seem to wait for hours as he takes his time, feeling every ingredient on his tongue before setting down his fork on the small white plate. “It’s tremendous, chef,” he says quietly, wiping the corner of his mouth. “Almost perfect. Could use maybe an acid, it’s a little sweet, but, wow,” he looks up at you to see your wide eyes, excited at his answer. This was, essentially, the highest praise from Carmy you could get. “Thank you,” you say quietly, watching as he takes another forkful of the dessert. 

“What’s the tattoo on your hip?” he asks, pointing at the right side of your body, where your shirt had ridden up before. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since he caught a glimpse. “Oh, um,” your cheeks turned a soft shade of red, standing up to lift up your shirt and show him. “It’s, uh, a snake. It goes down my leg too,” you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to show him a bit more of the ink, further exposing the thin strap of the black thong you had on. “Got it a long time ago, in school. Just wanted to feel cool I guess.” He stands up, slowly, coming to lightly pin you against the counter. It’s safe, it’s easy, and suddenly it feels so fucking right to have him here under the dim kitchen light. “Can I see the rest of it?”

All bets are off, then. Your jeans are pooled around your ankles in a second as he’s feverishly kissing your lips, hands everywhere, his calloused palms against your soft ass. His sweater is off, along with his signature white tee, showing off the glistening gold chain against his bare chest. You’ve managed to push his jeans down just enough to slide a hand into his waist band, eliciting a soft, breathy moan from him into your mouth.

When you stumble back into your bedroom, it’s all a blur. It’s hot skin against hot skin, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as his hands work their way in between your wet folds. They’re so gentle, yet he knows what he’s doing, so the slow circles on your clit as he lets himself rut against you are making you unbelievably wet for him. “I want you so fucking badly,” he pants into your ear, letting a finger easily plunge into you as you open your legs wider for him. “Is this a good idea, Carmy?” you let your fingers thread through his hair, allowing him to look up at you. His usual baby blues were dark again, lustful and wanton. “No,” he says matter-of-factly, but the smirk on his lips is so unbelievable, a cruel man above you. “Should we do it anyways?” You ask, your own smile playing on the corners of your mouth, allowing your hips to rut against his fingers, fucking yourself to feel more of him. He takes a large hand to your breast, letting it slide up, thumb slipping onto your lower lip and into your mouth. “Yeah… yeah, of course we fucking should.”

It’s so easy with him, which is what makes it so hard. He knows right where to kiss, where to touch, where to love on your body. He knows to take his hands to your sides, pushing you into the mattress as he laps at your clit and kisses your inner thighs, looking up and watching you take your own tits in your hands, squeezing them together, looking down at him with such need. He knows to slide up between your legs, and to cradle your neck in his hand, his thick cock plunging into you and making you weak, making his thumb wet with his own spit and bringing you to your orgasm, spasming around him, moaning his name into his mouth like a prayer. It doesn’t take much longer after that for him to spill inside of you, warm and deep, lips locked around his as you helped him ride his orgasm out. And it feels right, and real, when he lays next to you and kisses your chest and arms before falling into a deep sleep, your soft comforter over his chest. It all feels so fucking right, that first time.

But the next morning, all you have is an empty bed. And it doesn’t feel right anymore.

[erwinsvow]

𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞

summary: you and aaron are having a hard time deciding on a baby name.

word count: 1.5k

author's note: eeeeeeee x3. cannot stop writing for aaron, especially domestic, happy aaron. not bau!reader but i stole elements from that story too, linked here. i really loved this one!

now spinning

You had thought time would fly by during pregnancy, or at least that’s what everyone else made it seem like. You felt like all you’d heard so far was warnings to enjoy this time with ‘just the two of you’ and spend your days preparing as much as you could. 

You’d taken it very literally—your evenings after work were spent reading baby books and prepping food to store in the freezer.

Your days off from work, and even the rare, treasured weekend Aaron has off, is spent looking at paint samples (all yellows and greens, even though you’ve known it’s a girl since the two of you had Jack take a big bite out of a cupcake with raspberry frosting inside) and browsing websites for a car seat and a stroller. Aaron digs through the garage for Jack’s old things, and comes out with a sturdy wooden crib and a beautiful bassinet. 

Aaron doesn’t worry as much as you, of course, and he has the best dad instinct you’ve ever seen. It comes so naturally to him, you almost worry about yourself. Will it be this easy for you? 

You have experience parenting now, thanks to Jack and all the time you spent with him and Aaron even before you got married, but he barely counts. He’s an angel child—one who asks for extra servings of vegetables, does his homework without being asked, and never complains when you have to remind him to tidy up his room. 

Besides a few puzzle pieces and various, outgrown sports gear scattered throughout the house—your house, your family home, you think fondly— he always puts away his belongings in the proper place.

He even reminds you and Aaron of his upcoming school projects and which commitments he penciled in for—a friend’s birthday party next weekend (When should we go get the gift?) and a class field trip next month (They need two more chaperones. Should I ask Uncle David?)

You’re convinced you’ll never have it this easy with another child. You start over preparing the week you find out you’re pregnant, after Aaron smothers you in kisses and hugs.

He takes you out to dinner with the team—another rare, treasured event, but not because he doesn’t want to, just because they’re always on a case—and you break the news to them when you turn down a glass of wine from Emily, who looks at you quizzically. No more wine for nine months, you had said. Ten, JJ corrected.

You’re seven months now, halfway to eight. Pregnancy brain is very real and has affected you like crazy. You keep forgetting to go grocery shopping and then you keep misplacing the paper grocery list Aaron keeps on the fridge with a little magnet. You and Jack have been eating a lot of take-out, and he’s not complaining but he still inquires about his vegetable intake over slices of pizza. 

“You know, the baby is the size of a coconut right now,” you tell Aaron on the phone, rubbing your stomach. Your back has been killing you lately, another thing you had read about happening nearing month eight in your baby books of horror.

Aaron offers a massage when he’s around but it always hurts the most when he’s gone. Besides, his massages are what got you into this predicament in the first place.

Jack is asleep on the sofa right next to you. He had asked to watch Star Wars before bed—it’s a Friday night and he has no soccer practice tomorrow, and you are a perpetual good cop who can’t say no—so you had cozied up with him and a bowl of popcorn on the couch while The Empire Strikes Back played quietly in the background. You move your hand back to stroke his hair while he sleeps.

“Really, sweetheat? A coconut?” Aaron says. The team is up in Connecticut, and though he’s gone and you wish he was here with you, you’re thankful he’s in the same time zone.

You’re not sure about the case and can’t stomach the gory details anymore, but you think they must have made some strides since he’s staying on the phone with you and not in a rush to leave.

“Uh-huh, that’s what my book said. Never knew a coconut could kick this hard.” Aaron laughs on his side of the call, a sweet sound. You smile. “Maybe she’s kicking now to let us know she wants to play soccer like her big brother.”

“A prodigy in the making. Speaking of, does Jack have practice tomorrow?” Aaron likes to remind you of these things because he knows you keep forgetting.

“No, nothing tomorrow, I triple checked. And this little brainiac is just like you, keeps reminding me so I don’t wake him up at seven-thirty tomorrow.”

You hear Aaron laugh again. It all feels very domestic. Your mouth hurts from smiling.

“Aaron, it’s getting to that time. We need to pick a baby name soon. Any crazy ex-girlfriends or female serial killers we need to avoid?”

“Well there’s certainly a few. Serial killers, that is, not the other thing. What are you thinking so far?”

“Well my book said-” Aaron groans on the other end. “Hey! Don’t knock my book, it’s helpful.”

“Honey, your book had you convinced the baby would be missing fingers and toes if you had a turkey sandwich.”

“Deli meat is bad during pregnancy! So is sushi, thank you very much. I’d rather not risk my baby’s digits just because you wanted subs.”

“Reid said that’s not true and everything’s fine in moderation.”

“I’m sorry, has Reid ever birthed a human before?”

“Point taken. Your book also said your heartburn isn’t a big deal because it just means the baby will have a full head of hair-” “JJ said that too! And she said Henry had lots of hair-”

“And it also said sex during pregnancy is bad. Remember that?” Your face heats up. Damn him, making you blush even when he’s hundreds of miles away. 

“Oh, whatever. Just tell me which names we have to avoid. I think we should do something with a J, though. Make it matching.”

“Very sweet, honey. Jordan? Juliet? June?”

“Hmm,” you ponder carefully. Even if it’s silly, this feels like one of the biggest decisions you’ll ever make. “I like them all but I don’t love them. They’re too… something. Too new maybe.”

“Older names, then? Joy, Josie, Julia?”

“I like those too. Should we really name our child after a Beatles song though?”

“I think that’s a great idea, don’t you?” You can almost hear it in Aaron’s voice—he’s relaxing for the moment. Either they’ve already caught the unsub or you have a bigger impact on him than you thought you did. 

“Well if we’re gonna do that then we should at least use Eleanor or Michelle. Or Lucy! I like Lucy.”

“I’d prefer not to name our daughter after a song written about hallucinogens.”

“Aw, you're no fun. How about Anna?”

“What happened to wanting to match with Jack?” he asks.

“Ah, let the kid have his own identity. If he had it his way we’d name the baby Leia or Yoda.”

“Leah’s not bad. Pretty and simple. Four letters, keeping the trend.”

“That’s not a Beatles song!” You hear Aaron groan.

“You have too many demands, honey.” “No, I’m just picky. You should consider it a compliment, I’m choosy and I chose you, remember?”

“Vividly. Prudence, then?”

“Oh, that’s pretty.” You try to picture it written on holiday cards and homework sheets. Prudence Hotchner. You say it aloud to test the feel of it. “Prudence Hotchner. Prue Hotchner.”

“Sweetheart, I was joking.”

“You should never joke around a pregnant woman. I like it, it’s so pretty. Pretty Prudence.”

“You don’t think it’s a little old?”

“Well, her father is an old man who wants to name her after a Beatles song, so yeah, it’s very fitting. Doesn’t it just roll right off the tongue? Prudence Hotchner? We could call her Prue.”

“Prue is very cute. I like Prudence Joy.”

“Oh, I love Prudence Joy. Prudence Joy Hotchner. I like it so much. I’m tempted to wake up Jack and ask if he likes it.  Will you ask the team if they like it too?”

“I will, honey. Isn’t it time to sleep now?”

“Yes, I’ve just been putting it off. Jack’s asleep next to me, I have no idea how I’ll get him upstairs without waking him.”

“If you wake him he’ll be able to fall asleep again, as long as it’s quick-” “I know, honey, don’t worry about us.”

“Can’t help it.” You can’t stop the smile that spreads, cheek to cheek. You have a feeling he’s smiling too.

“You’ll ask the others, right? About Prudence?”

“Yes, honey, I will. I’ll see them in a little bit, I stepped out to call you while I made another cup of coffee.”

“Oh, Aaron, it's so late for coffee,” you chide, lovingly. Don’t drink a whole cup please. I wish you guys would drink tea instead. Or at least decaf.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I gotta go now. Kiss Jack goodnight for me?” “Of course.”

“And play Prudence her song, then?” You can’t contain the smile on your face.

“Of course. Good night from all three of us, Aaron.”